“I told you, I never lied, I just didn’t tell you the truth . . .” George continued. Julius had stopped talking as if he, too, wanted to hear George’s conversation. He turned the camera around and began to film Andy. Their conversation then smothered George’s. The screen went black again. It ended there, leaving everyone dazed and bewildered and very embarrassed.
“Whom was Dad speaking to?” Joshua demanded. They all looked at one another blankly. Tom shrugged. Antoinette began to cry. Rosamunde’s face had darkened with indignation.
Phaedra squeezed David’s hand, then let it go. Julius had got his revenge, as she knew he would. She stood up. “He was speaking to me,” she replied steadily. The eyes that turned on her were fierce in their condemnation. David went gray, as if he had aged ten years in a single moment.
“You, Phaedra?” Antoinette gasped.
Phaedra dropped her gaze onto Roberta’s smug face. “You were right, Roberta. I’m not a Frampton,” she stated simply.
“What did I tell you?” Roberta exclaimed triumphantly. She shot her husband a reproachful look. He was too appalled to respond.
“But you’re wrong in that I never wanted any money from George and certainly not those beautiful sapphires. I never wanted anything but George’s love.”
“God, Phaedra! How could you?” Tom cried out as his mother began to sob. “We trusted you!”
“Let her speak,” said David. His composure was chilling. Phaedra didn’t know whether she could continue. She had now lost everyone dear.
“I’m not George’s daughter,” she went on, clenching her jaw to restrain her despair. “I was his lover.” There was a collective gasp, but Phaedra continued bravely. She wanted to come clean and tell them the whole story. Since they all looked too traumatized to speak, she had the floor to herself. “We met a year and a half ago when I was photographing in the Himalayas. I didn’t realize he was married because he never told me. I was living in Paris, and he came over from time to time. I never had any reason to mistrust him. I moved to London a month before he was killed, to be close to him. There I found out he was married. Not because someone told me, but because I was researching my book on the Internet and his name came up in connection with an article about British climbers. I went mad. I loved him, but I couldn’t be with another woman’s husband. So I finished it, but George wouldn’t hear of it. He tried to win me back. He told me he was going to include me in his will and give me those family sapphires. It was a gut reaction and one I’m sure he would have reversed, had he lived. I now realize what an impulsive, fickle man he could be. I told him I didn’t want anything from him, just the one thing he couldn’t give me. But George went off skiing with Julius. He thought I’d come round, given a bit of time to reflect. He called me constantly, but my answer was always the same.” She took a deep breath. A small part of her felt relieved not to have to lie anymore. “When he died, I was left no alternative but to invent a story. You were going to find out the truth unless I hid it, and I couldn’t bear for his family to be hurt. If he hadn’t changed his will, none of you would ever have known.” She looked at Antoinette’s streaming eyes, and her heart faltered. She swallowed hard to contain her own tears. “Julius came up with the idea for me to pose as George’s daughter. On our second trek a man at base camp assumed we were father and daughter, so I called George Dad as a joke. That gave Julius the idea. It was the only way. I meant to come down only once and meet you all. I never expected to return. I certainly never expected to love you the way I do. Perhaps I should have gone straight back to Paris. You’d never have met me, and you would have discovered that George had been unfaithful only when the will was read. I did what I thought was right at the time—I never imagined I’d live to regret it so much.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand. She couldn’t look at David. His silence said more than words ever could.
“So who’s your real father?” Joshua asked, his face hard and unforgiving.
“Jack was my father. He left when I was ten, and I never saw him again. He died a few years back, in New Zealand.” The cold weight of their stares was too much to carry. “I think I’d better go,” she said quietly. No one stopped her. They watched her leave and close the door behind her.
Phaedra ran across the fields to David’s house, her heart shattered into a thousand pieces. She looked back every few minutes and searched the darkness for David, hoping that he might come running after her. But he didn’t appear, and through her tears she saw the place she loved disappear into a watery blur. She had gambled and lost everything.